


Attack of perfumes

by Renmiriffx



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: And she is gonna stop tagging this, But actually it's childish, Cos u know i'm evil teaser, Dirty Imagination, Flirting, Foul Language, Fun, Gallavich, Ian's a salesman, It's Okay, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Mickey doesn't know jackshit abt shopping, Sexting, Shopping, author thinks her sense of humor is hilarious, but behind closed doors, have fun, i guess?, immature, innuendos, okay they are some hooorny boys, sex occurs, u can hate me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-10 05:54:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5573320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renmiriffx/pseuds/Renmiriffx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The enemies were everywhere, abort the mission and retreat. The fucker who said nothing is impossible hasn't clearly been on the cosmetic section, like ever. How the fuck do you pick a cologne?</p><p> <br/>It's a warzone and the perfumes are winning, but rescue comes in a ginger form - AU<br/>(ps. I may occasionally add chaps to this, whenever I feel like having some fun)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Did my annual mascara shopping today and I noticed I was totally lost and out of place in the make-up section, so hence this ficlet.  
> Not my native language, so excuse the typos and grammar errors.  
> Leave me some love cuties ~<3~  
> I don't bite, not hard anyways ;)

Mickey had finally summoned up the courage to go to boystown. There was nothing to stop him now, Terry, the fucking bastard, was long gone. A life in prison was just what the doctor ordered, another week with that prick would have landed Mickey’s pale gay butt in jail. He would have grinded that piece of shit till his bones turned to dust, and then he would have clued the pieces back together and made a stew out of them, and finally fed it to the stray dogs. It’s was a painfully graphic conceit, but damn it made Mickey grin like an idiot, idiot that was happy down to his core.

But first he needed to do some shopping. He figured that maybe dirty ragged wife-beaters weren’t actually a’ honeytrap’ for horny scrumptious gay guys, who’d bent him over and pound him like a fucking thunder, like Zeus himself. Okay, he needs to cool down, he can’t waltz into a store with a raging boner. He sighed, neural thoughts, neural thoughts.

Okay cologne, isn’t that something gay guys do? Or wear, or what the fuck ever? That way at least he doesn’t smell like gun oil, which probably will help his changes of getting laid. Not that he’s going for the stereotypical gay-look, but being presentable doesn’t hurt now does it. Mickey really doesn’t care tad much about looks or anything, but he knows that he ain’t the best looking thing out there, or muscular or tall, or nothing really, just plain back and front. Another of Terry’s little perks, making Mickey feel like he’s nothing, but a fuck-up. So he can at least make an effort.

Finding clothes was fairly easy, but when he finds his way to the cosmetic section, he’s totally lost. He eyes the perfume shelf. There's like a hundred different fucking bottles. He feels like whimpering, it’s like fucking warzone and the enemies are everywhere.

“Which ones are even for men? Fucking fuck, motherfucking shitshit, SHIT!” He whines, yells and mutters. He closes his eyes and sighs. Mickey takes a goddamn loanshark gig over this any day.

“Fuck.” He mutters again, hand running over his face. But then he hears a cough behind him. Reluctantly he turns to see who’s behind him, and more importantly why.

“Need help?” A soft, friendly voice says.

First his eyes catch a nametag, Ian, it says. Freaking great, a fucking salesman, that's the last thing he needs.

“What?” He says annoyed, eyes shooting death glares, one eyebrow high, but when his leer reaches the salesman’s face, his eyes soften a little.

Well if that isn’t a sight for sore eyes, he doesn’t know what is. Come on, a bright smile, intense greenish eyes, tall, muscular arms perking up behind the shirt, jawline that could probably cut his hand if he’d slap that face. And that ginger hair, just the right length to _pull_ on. And oh my god, he’s acting totally gay now. Fucking fuck. Mickey shakes his head, getting rid of some dirty images. _Bet he fucks rough_. Damn it brain, die already. Geez, he’s coming undone by just looking at the guy.

The salesman chuckles lightly before speaking.

“It just looks like you need some help.”

“Well does it look like a fucking belong here?!” Mickey shoots up, indicating for Ian to look at him. His old clothes, his messy hair and his knuckle tattoos.

“I tend not to judge book by its cover.” The salesman, Ian, says softly.

And with that Mickey feels a blush creeping up. So he ducks his head a bit, and scratches the bridge of his nose with his thump.

“Fucking fine, yeah, I need some help.” Mickey coughs up.

“A gift for a girlfriend or..?” Ian bluntly asks.

“It’s for me.” Mickey quietly admits.

“Well in that case.” Ian says, and lightly pushes Mickey’s shoulder. “Colognes are there.” He points the end of the shelves.

“Oh.” Mickey lets out, blushing even more. Gosh, he’s so embarrassed. He glances at Ian, who seems like it’s perfectly normal. Which it probably is, he must get numbnuts like Mickey in here on daily basis. That thought doesn’t make Mickey feel any better though.

“So here are men’s stuff.” Ian says. “So what’s the occasion?” He adds.

“Fucks it to you?” Mickey almost spats, like he’s going to tell, he needs it for to get laid, by a dude.

“So not a people person then.” Ian sighs and shakes his head lightly. “I’m just trying to help here man.”

Mickey runs his bottom lip between his teeth. He takes the safest road.

“Going out.”

Ian raises his eyebrows, and Mickey tries not to read into to that.

“In that case.” Ian says, and leans past Mickey to take something out of the shelf. “You should try this one.” On his way back to beside Mickey, he steals in a sniff of Mickey’s scent. 

Tiny hairs on Mickey’s neck shoot up.

“Did you just…” Mickey mumbles, but Ian hands him the cologne. “Try it.” And Mickey gulps.

Ian leans in again, near Mickey’s ear and whispers: “Not that I think you need one, your natural scent’s quite _intoxicating_.”

Suddenly Mickey loses his ability to speak _. It’s a flirt, it’s defiantly a flirt._ He’s a salesman for Christ’s sake. It’s his job to be a little bit flirty, Mickey reassures himself. Still it doesn’t stop those words finding their way straight to Mickey’s pants. Shit.

“Come on, try it.” Ian smiles.

And Mickey opens the bottle, exposing his neck so he can squeeze in a slash, but Ian stops him.

“No, on your wrist. Think about if someone kisses your neck, it tastes like perfume, and that’s not sexy now is it?” Ian winks.

“Right.” Mickey says, a little bit baffled. Not that he plans on someone kissing his neck, but the way Ian is licking his lips, makes him wanna feel them on his skin. _Sweet Jesus, it’s so hot_.

So he slashes the cologne on his wrist and takes a sniff. Huh, it’s smells really good, not tacky like body spray, but deep, like burning wood and something berry-like.

“It’s my favorite.” Ian says.

Mickey eyes Ian for a sec. Is he supposed to read into that? Seems a bit more than a casual flirt.

“Well I’m the one buying it, not you.” Mickey says, confused, not really knowing how he should act.

“Yeah, but I’d love if my sheets smelled like it tomorrow morning.”

Okay, now that’s not fucking casual anymore.

“You fucking flirting with me?” Mickey raises his eyebrows.

“Is that a bad thing?” Ian says, not ashamed one bit.

Mickey opens his mouth to say something, but closes it again, then opens it again. Gosh, he must look like a fucking fish, so fucking stupid. But the words just won't come out. His mind races though. _Dude, he totally wants to bone you. Seize the moment asshole, DIG IN!_

“Erm..” Mickey tries, he’s so fucking new with this, and way too sober. Half a bottle of Jack and he’d be all over that shit.

But he doesn’t need to say anything, cos Ian leans in again.

“I get off in an hour.” Breathe painfully hot against Mickey’s ear. “Do you and—“ He stops to eye out Mickey’s painfully obvious boner. “Your _pack_ , wanna wait for me?”

Mickey nods rabidly and Ian slips something into his pocket.

“Give me a call tough guy.” Ian smirks and leaves the scene of heavy flirting.

Mental note: Maybe shopping ain’t that bad. Mickey grins and tosses the cologne into his basket.


	2. Typical casual sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geez, this is so immature and stupid. But it's what my mind thought when I took a nap. So here you go, I hope I didn't fuck it up (badly at least) I'm gonna go rebury myself in the ditch I crawled out off, BYE.
> 
> But hey, early New Years wishes to all of you ! Happy new year's!  
> Don't drink and drive, keep your pants on, and don't do anything Mickey and Ian wouldn't do (okay that's a bad advise, ha.)

Mickey was uncertain what he should do. Should he wait by the store? Should he go home and shower? Should he buy something else, you know like condoms or some shit? Or booze? He should definitely buy booze. There’s gotta be a liquor store somewhere…

After buying a bottle of jack and a sixpack of beer, Mickey settled waiting by the bench outside the store, tapping one beer open. The hot ginger salesman’s number burning in his pocket. His mind played over a dozen dirty scenarios, on a loop, like a record player. A _dirty quickie_ in an alley bent over a dumpster? Or _a rough fuck_ in an abandon building? Or maybe Ian would take him into his place, and they could go at it all freaking fucking night, until he wasn’t _able to walk_ anymore and his mind would be _a blissful blur_? That’d be hot.

It was only a half an hour in, but curiosity got the better of him. So he gets his phone out and shoots a text.

**Where we going?**

Two minutes went by till his phone buzzed. Geez, he shouldn’t have kept the phone on his lap. Because, vibrations, straight to the dick.

**Naughty, naughty boy… I told you to wait. You need to be taught some manners.**

Mickey might have done all kinds of things in his days, but sexting wasn’t one of them. And was he intrigued about it, the bulge in his pants certainly indicated so. Mickey Milkovich did not do begging, but this was a onetime deal and too good to pass up.

**Yes, please.**

Mickey grins like a madman, well you got to be a little bit mad if you’re going to hop on the _hot-gay-hopefully-kinky-ass-sex-with-a-stranger_ -wagon. But Mickey’s so down with it, it’s ridiculous.

**You’re going to own me a pair of sheets.**

**Huh?**

**No washing machine is going to get them clean, even the pipes would block up cos of all the cum I’m gonna make you spill.**

Mickey is two secs away from jizzing his own pants. Jesus fucking Christ. He felt like a fucking teenager, well technically he is still a teenager, but still. Worse, Mickey felt like a virgin. It ain’t his first time on the rodeo (actually kinda yes, since he’s never rode anyone), he’s been to juvie for Christ sake! But with the new found freedom, it’s all going to be new and fan-fucking-tastic.

 **Live up to that promise and I’ll buy you Egyptian cotton sheets**.

No fucking way he was going to buy shit, but he might steal some shit.

**Give me 15 minutes and I’ll show you. Just bring that foul mouth of yours, and put it to use.**

**Oh, I _fucking_ will, don’t worry about it.**

There was no more messages from Ian, so Mickey just sat on the bench, emptying as many beers as he could. Mickey was on his fourth beer, when his eyes caught a glimpse of that ginger heaven. Ian noticed him quite quickly and walked closer to Mickey, green eyes tightly clued on blue ones.

There were no words exchanged between them, Ian gave Mickey the most intense bedroom-eyes he’s ever seen and simply walked past Mickey. And Mickey hated himself for it, but he followed like a dog, full-on Hachiko mode, looking for his owner.

Luckily the walk to Ian’s place wasn’t long, because Mickey felt like bursting. And the fact that he walked behind Ian, so his butt was right there, on display, right in front of his eyes, whole goddamn way. Fuck.

It took full three seconds when the door was opened, before the boys attacked each other, actually _attacked_. Ian shoved Mickey against the door with full force. Asking only one thing:

“How you like it?”

And there was only one answer:

“Rough.”

 

* * *

 

Mickey never meant to fall asleep, but guess all night fucking-session do take their toll. It was the alarm clock that woke him.

Mickey blinks, body aching all over, he glances around him. Firecrotch’s beside him, well at least they weren’t cuddling, because that’s where he draws the line. He already hates himself for breaking the no-kissing-rule, but goddamn fuck does Ian have some skillful lips.

“Fuck.” Ian mutters beside him, knocking the alarm clock down of the bedside table.

Ian stirs up, drained as fuck. Yawning, he ducks his head and sees Mickey laying next to him.

“Morning.” He says weary. “You’re still here.”

“Morning.” Mickey answers. “Sorry, fell asleep.”

“Nah, it’s okay.” Ian gets up, and looks for some clean boxers and a towel.

“I hate throw you out, especially cos of that delicious ass of yours, but I gotta be at work in two hours.”

“So no round two?” Mickey teases, a bit disappointed to be honest. He gets up and gathers his clothes from yesterday.

“Technically that’d be round five.” Ian laughs. “I don’t think I got the chance to ask yesterday, and I feel so stupid to ask it now, but what’s your name?”

“Um, Mickey.” He answers and dresses up.

“It’s officially nice to meet you Mickey, we gotta do this again sometime.” Ian winks.

“Any day, man.”

“You got my number, so give me a call or shoot a text.”

“Will do, sir.” Mickey laughs and salutes Ian (Only cos Ian briefly mentioned yesterday about his days in the kiddy army)

“What a fucking tease.” Ian smirks.

“Well, I’m off then…” Mickey walks past Ian, running his finger on the waistband of Ian’s boxers. “Unless, you’re up for more.” Voice utterly husky.

Ian groans and closes his eyes like he’s making up his mind.

“Fuck, I gotta work.”

But being a butthead, Mickey tugs Ian closer, half hard cocks against each other, looking for some friction.

“Hour here and there, what’s the matter?” Mickey’s lips hoover over Ian’s. “Hmmm?”

For the first time, Ian’s speechless. He licks his lips, pupils almost swallowing the irises. His hands nearly grab Mickey’s ass, but he sighs and shakes his head. He leans his forehead against Mickey’s.

“Work.” He mutters.

Mickey rolls his eyes, he ain’t broken about it, because he gets it, some people do have honest jobs and regular work hours. But it doesn’t stop him being disappointed.

“It’s cool, I get it.” He says and backs off and heads towards the door.

“Tonight maybe?” Ian asks.

“I’ll think about it.” He’s not really gonna think about it, because if Ian calls him, he’ll be over in a flash.

“Okay, till then I guess.” Ian says.

“Guess so.” And Mickey’s out the door.

Fuck. He hangs his head against the front door. He could definitely get used to this absolutely mind numbing sex. Which gives him an idea, grinning he takes his phone out.

**You know, next time I should totally tie you to a chair, and make you my personal bouncy castle.**

He trades the phone for a smoke and turns so his back’s against the door. Mickey got his lighter out, when the front door opened, making him almost fall down. There’s a violent grip onto his shoulder as he’s yanked back inside.

“Okay tough guy, you win.” Ian sighs.

 

 


	3. Casual sex part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lookie what I did. Why god why can't I stop writing this silly crap, lol. ima gonna go now, bye.

“Gonna leave any time soon?” Ian asks over a cloud of smoke.

It’s was the third time in row Mickey had slept at Ian’s, and god was he getting comfy, a little too comfy. He blamed the bed, yup, the bed. It’s totally because of the bed, nothing to do with Ian, nothing at all.

“No.” Mickeys says voice filled with sleep, wrapping the blanket even tighter around himself.

Ian chuckles lightly, rolling his eyes.

“Well do you want coffee or something?”

“Or _something…_ ” Mickey smirks and reaches his hand under the covers, tracing Ian’s pubes, dropping lower and lower. He gets a grunt in response.

“Mickey.” Ian whines a bit, biting his lip. Cigarette burning between his fingers. “Not that I’m, um, complaining, but…” Ian is forced to swallow rest of the sentence when Mickey’s hand grips firmly around him, squeezing in a manner that you can’t call lazy.

“Fuck.” Ian hisses and Mickey smiles widely, turning to face Ian. He watches as the blush creeps up Ian’s cheeks, looking all flushed and panting. And fuck does he feel good about himself, making someone squirm under his touch, under his gaze, under his strokes, under his heat. Fuck does he feel magnificent.

 

* * *

 

It’s isn’t actually a walk of shame, but it’s pretty close to one. Mickey’s hair was mess, even messier than usual if such thing is possible. His ragged tank top was torn. And Mickey grins when he rolls the unwind string around his finger, Ian certainly liked to play it rough. Memories of last night filled Mickey’s head. Ian had pulled his tank top a little too violently, making it give in and leaving the other side drooping. Ian had pinned him against the wall, lifted him up, silently obligating Mickey to wrap his legs just below Ian’s ass.

Okay, now the thought of that makes Mickey pout, he shivers as the girly feeling flushes over him. Fucking Ian, making him feel girlish. Shit. But fuck, it feels so right. Not the girly feeling, but everything Ian does to him, especially with his _tongue_. And that brings the smile back to Mickey’s face. It was turning the polar opposite of walk of shame as Mickey’s grin grows and grows.

He grabs the handle and pushes the door open, instantly greeted by a bitchy voice.

“Fuck have you been? Thought you were dead!” His sister, Mandy, piped.

“Out.” Mickey snarls back and closes the door. “Fucks it to you? We got any beer?”

“You’ve been gone for three days asshole.” Mandy hisses. “It is 9 A.M” Mickey raises his eyebrows as ‘So what?’ and walks to the fridge, and roams through its content and finds a beer.

 But nothing escapes the nosy bitch and she smirks when her eyes drop to Mickey’s shoulders. “Or should I say nights.” She quickly raises her eyebrows and laughs.

“None of your business bitch.” Mickey tugs his top better on.

“Suit yourself assface.” Mandy shrugs. “Hope you remember your promise?”

Mickey sits himself next to Mandy and slings his legs to the coffee table.

“What fucking promise?”

Mandy slogs his big brother on the shoulder and shoots him an angry look.

“You said you’d take me shopping.”

“Said no such thing.”

“Don’t.even.try.” Mandy reaches to take the beer away from Mickey, almost spilling it on the floor.

“Fine, fuck, fine! Don’t take my baby.”

 

* * *

 

Mickey gulps when he pulls the car in the parking lot, eyeing the familiar store in front of him. Driving Mandy around all day has been fucking annoying as hell, but this is too much.

“You coming?”

“Wow, deal was that I drive you, not that I come fucking with you.” Mickey raises his arms as surrender.

“But I need help.”

“No.”

“I’m your sister, it’s your duty to help me.”

“Fuck it is.”

“I’ll wash your car.” Mickey snorts. “I’ll rub your feet.” Another snort.

“Bag of weed, 20 bucks, I’ll clean your room.”

“You stay the fuck out of my room.” Mickey spats.

“Case of beer, I’ll buy you movie tickets, I’ll get you Seagal’s autograft.”

Mickey shuts eyes, tired of listening to Mandy’s ramble.

“Just shut up, I’ll fucking go with you. God. And I’ll take that weed.”

Mandy smiles victoriously and Mickey hoped to god that Ian wasn't working today.

 

* * *

 

Mandy had him as her judge when she showed him dress after a dress. Following dress always tad much slutier than the previous. Mickey felt kinda repulsive, it was his sister after all. And the thought of her showing herself to someone in such small dress made his stomach unsteady.  

Mickey buries his head to his hands as he waits for Mandy to show him yet another dress. Fucking fuck, siblings suck. But Mickey didn’t get to dwell on that thought for too long, because he suddenly felt a steady hot breath against his ear.

“Starker much?”

Fuck, if he had a mini digger he’d dig a tunnel all the fucking way to Africa. Alas he hasn’t got one, and floors don’t actually swallow people no matter how hard you wish. He had no choice, but to deal with the situation. Well, not in a way his dick seems to want, fucking _seductive_ voice.

He turns his head so he catches the sight of the salesman’s work outfit and that burning red hair and that goddamn smirk where the other side of the mouth tugs up in a manner that makes Mickey’s head spin.

“Fuck Ian, don’t fucking do that.”

“Do what?” Ian’s face doesn’t move an inch, breathe still painfully close to Mickey’s ear and neck.

“That.” And Mickey face flushes with colors he didn’t even know excited.

“You mean this.” Ian whispers and playfully bites Mickey’s earlobe, making Mickey freeze when he should flee.

Finally Ian pulls away, grinning even wider.

“You can’t do shit like that in public dude!” Mickey tries to snarl, but can’t. Shitfuckmotherfuckershit.

“Why not?” Ian beams at him, but gives Mickey no time to answer.

 Ian hauls Mickey to the nearest changing room and saps the door shut behind them. And tucks Mickey against the door, and attaches his lips to Mickey’s. And Mickey curses his none existing willpower, letting Ian explore around his mouth, like fucking Marco Polo. Ian drags them backwards and his feet collide on the small stool in the corner of the room, and makes them crash on it. Mickey on his lap, kneeling, both legs by Ian’s sides.

“Jesus, you’re some fucking stupid genius.” Mickey smirks between kisses.

“That sentence doesn’t make any sense.” Ian smiles.

“Fucking asshole.”

“Shut up and dry hump me.” Ian voices shakily.

And does Mickey need to be told twice? No he fucking doesn’t.

Its Mandy’s distance yelling that breaks Mickey’s thoughts, if you can call _dick, dick, gimme some dick, up my butt now, fuck I’m horny_ – thoughts.

“MICKEY! Where the fuck did you go, fucking assface!”

Mickey hangs his head against Ian’s forehead. Fucking cockblock bitch.

“That’s my sis. She’s gonna rip me a new one if I don’t surface soon.”

Ian grunts and sighs.

“Shit.”

“Not like we could have actually banged in here.” Mickey laughs.

“Don’t give me ideas.” Ian winks.

Mickey eases himself off Ian’s lap.

“Get your lanky ass up, and take a peek if she’s gone.”

“Ay ay, sir.” And Ian stands on tiptoes peeping over the booth to see a sign of the girl.

“Coast’s clear.”

“Save the army stuff to the bedroom.” Mickey teases. “Gotta go.”

“Coming tonight?”

“Maybe.” Mickey smiles and leaves the changing room, Ian following shortly.

He sits back on the stool near the changing area.

“Where the fuck where you?” He hears Mandy scold behind him.

“Around, got bored, walked a bit.” Mickey shrugs.

“Then why’s your hair a mess and your shirt is no longer tugged into your pants? Hmmmmm?” Mandy questions.

“Because reasons bitch.” And he ducks his head, trying to hide his laughter.

It was casual sex at its best, if you believe in such thing.

 


	4. Because fucking reasons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SOOO SORRY. No I'm not. :DD  
> Lol, I've been dog/house sitting for my parents and they have a pool table, so some silly fic with playing pool was bound to happen, and I thought it suited this silly crack fic. Try to enjoy darlings! I regret nothing!

It’s been 1,5 months, 46 days since he and Ian started whatever they’re doing nowadays. And roughly 4 hours as Mickey glances the clock hanging on the Alibi’s wall. Not that he’s counting or anything. He just happens to remember, because reasons. (lately that’s becoming his favorite excuse) He’s Mickey fucking Milkovich, he can know or remember shit if he wants to, because fucking reasons… But someday he has to define those particular reasons, but it ain’t gonna be today, this is gonna be yet another blissful ignorance day. Or at least he can hope it will be.

“Mickey, it’s your turn,” His sister snarls.

But Mickey isn’t in this world anymore. He’s far too busy daydreaming. It’s been like four days since they last had sex. And for someone with a high libido like Mickey, it’s fucking torture. Fucking Ian and his _magic dick_. Seriously it ain’t a dick, it’s a fucking wand, _a magic wand_. And it’s only purpose in life is to pound Mickey to oblivion or it seems to be.

If Ian would surprise him when he was making breakfast (not that he’s ever made Ian breakfast, because fucking domestic and shit, but if he ever would for some reason…) Ian would lift him on the counter next to the stove and bend him over, so he’d get to wrap his legs around Ian’s waist. Back arching up, heels digging into Ian’s lower back. Hands gripping his hips so hard that they would _bruise_. Well that just makes Mickey’s mouth water.

Then he feels something poking him on the ribs.

“Huh?”

“Turn, fuckpole,” Mandy says.

Oh, yeah. The pool game he’s playing with Mandy. Yeah, he should concentrate on that. Not dream about some cock, that he wants to _suck_. Fuck. He shakes his head so hard that it’s gonna give him a slight headache. Dirty thoughts.

But just as he’s going to take a shot, Mandy slaps the pole across his back.

“Whatta fuck bitch? I’m playing!” Mickey yells.

“Hottie alert, 12 o’clock,” She says.

Mickey’s eyes shoot up towards the bar where Kevin, the owner is talking to a redheac. To a certain, familiar redhead.

“Fuck me,” He silently huffs out.

His sister leans closer, “Look at that fucking face bro, oh my god.”

“Yeah…” Is all Mickey can get out of his mouth. Shit. But does Ian look fucking good in the dim lights.

“He just looked at me!” Mandy squeals.

Mickey glances Ian, who notices him right away, that fucking devious smirk on his face. He says something to Kevin and starts walking towards the pool table.

“Oh, he’s coming this way. How’s my hair?” Mandy pipes and flips her hair and leans on her pool stick. But Ian doesn’t come to her, merely just glances at her, flashing a smile. He stops in front of Mickey across the pool table.

“Hey,” He beams at Mickey, “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Erm,” Mickey coughs, “Hey, likewise.” He scratches the back of his head nervously.

Being alone with Ian is another thing, but in public? They’ve never been together in public, at least not like this.

Mickey hears her sister sighing, clearly annoyed, next to him.

“You play?” Mickey asks Ian.

“Aren’t you in the middle of a game?” Ian nods towards Mandy.

“Oh, yeah. That’s my sister.”

“I can see the family resemble.” He turns to Mandy. “Hey, I’m Ian, nice to meet you.” He reaches for Mandy’s hand for a shake.

“Mandy,” She says. “You the one he’s been disappearing to?”

Mickey hisses at her sister, shooting daggers with his eyes. That fucking nosy bitch.

“I don’t know,” Ian mysterically says. “Maybe,” He raises his eyebrows playfully.

“You’re just as bad as he. You make quite the pair.” She laughs.

“We’re not a fucking couple!” Mickey whispers shouts to her sister, elbowing her, and not so lightly.

“Yeah, and tortoises are the fastest animals and the earth’s flat. Obvious shit is obvious. Might wanna take a lying class brother,” She teases, making Ian laugh.

“I like her,” Ian grins.

“Of course you fucking do, can this get more awkward please?” Mickey shakes his head, trying to bury his embarrassment there.

“Well this one time I came home and found him jerking off to Scoo—“

“AND THAT’S ENOUGH!” Mickey cuts his sister off before she can finish the sentence.

“Aw, come on it’s a good story,” Mandy laughs.

“Now I definitely need to hear it,” Ian smirks and shifts closer to Mandy.

“I fucking hate you both,” Mickey snarls, desperately trying to make himself vanish, but sadly magic doesn’t exist

“No you don’t,” Mandy teases.

“Isn’t there someone you should be banging?” Mickey says to his sister, emphasizing for her to get the fuck outta there.

“No,” She says innocently.

“Mandy…” Mickey warns her.

“Okay okay, coming home tonight?” She asks, looking both Mickey and Ian, who have fallen into ‘I’m mentally stripping you naked with my eyes’ staring contest. “I take that as a no, well see you later then.” She waves them goodbye.

“So how about that game then?” Ian asks.

“With bets I assume?”

“Is there any other way to play?”

“So what we playing for then?”

“Well, if I win, you’ll never get to ask me about that story again, deal?” Mickey offers.

“And what if I win?”

“You get a cuddle.” Mickey simply says.

“A cuddle?” Ian raises his eyebrows.

“Don’t pretend you don’t wanna cuddle. I’ve fucking noticed your hands ghosting over me when I stay over. You’re so fucking desperate for a cuddle.”

“Not denying that,” Ian shrugs. “How long?”

“How long what?”

“I get to cuddle you?”

“I don’t know, 15 minutes?”

“Come the fuck on Mickey, that’s not a cuddle.”

“Take it or leave it.”

Ian pouts like a five year old, eyebrows knitting together. He lets out a deep sigh.

“Fine, you give a hard bargain. But I’m gonna win though.” He grins.

“Is that so?” Mickey smirks, “Make the table then.”

They play eight-ball and Ian starts the game, he scatters the pack. He miraculously pockets the cue ball, which makes Mickey laugh.

“You said something about winning? And yet you pocket the cue ball, you’re so full of shit.”

“Mistakes can happen to anyone, your turn,” Ian says and hands the cue ball to Mickey.

Mickey grins, this game is going to be so fucking easy, Ian can’t play for shit. He places the ball to a desired location with a fairly easy pocket opportunity and sets the stick on the cue to make a shot, but before he can do that he feels Ian’s hand on his shoulder, making Mickey waver.

“Oh, I’m sorry, this distracting you?” He smirks.

Mickey glances at Ian, not breaking his posture.

“Not at all,” He lies, because a touch from Ian after four days makes his knees weak.

And just as he’s about to shoot, Ian’s hand wanders even lower, just above his hip, messing up Mickey’s shot.

“Fuck,” Mickey hisses. “You did that on purpose, that your game?”

“What?” Ian whistles like he’s done nothing wrong.

“You can’t play pool so you’re gonna cheat?”

“It’s a different kind of game,” Ian lilts. “I might not be good at pool, but distracting you is something I’m excellent at.”

“Bullshit,” Mickey lies yet again, “Two can play that game.”

“Sure you can multitask? And without them noticing anything?” Ian nods towards the people in the bar.

“Fucking watch me, your turn.”

So Ian lines up to take the shot, in an ankle that his back is towards the bar, so Mickey can’t touch him in anyway, without alerting someone.

Doesn’t stop Mickey leaning in and whispering into Ian’s ear,

“You make that shot and I’ll blow you so good.”

“That’s not teasing, that’s an incentive,” Ian smiles widely.

Mickey cubs his hands so it seems that he’s whispering something to Ian, but he doesn’t whisper, he licks Ian’s earlobe and takes it between his lips.

“Now that’s dirty.”

“It’s payback from the store,” Mickey huffs into Ian’s ear with utterly husky voice.

None the less Ian makes the shot and nails it.

“You were saying?” He grins.

And that’s when and where Mickey realizes that he has no change at winning the game, neither of them. Because Ian clearly played him, he can fucking play pool. But that doesn’t mean his gonna give up though. So he mentally prepares for his turn, when Ian yet again pockets another ball, and another after that. But then it’s Mickey’s turn.

Just as Mickey’s about to shoot, Ian sits on the table, leaning his head back and running his hand under his shirt, ever so slightly lifting it up and letting out a low moan,

“Oh Mickey…”

Needless to say that Mickey lost the game, fucking ginger, hot, sexy, devious, delicious, delightful, fucking foxy… Fucking Ian.

 

* * *

 

 

Later that night after some other activities… Which were repeated twice, they lay on Ian’s bed both beat and panting.

“So what’s the story?” Ian asks between his heavy breaths.

“You’re not gonna let it go are you?”

“Noup,” Ian says.

“In my defense I was fucking thirteen, so um… I was watching Scooby-doo 2: Monsters unleashed and then Seth Green comes on the screen and I… You know…”

That sets Ian on a wild laughing stroll, his eyes water and tears run on his cheeks.

“So you’ve always had a thing for gingers then?” He says between chuckles.

“There I said it, now shut up and proceed to cuddling,” Mickey pouts and turns onto his side. He takes a mental note to dig up embarrassing dirt on Ian.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Ian smiles and wraps his long limbs around Mickey, burying his head on the crook of Mickey’s neck.

“And Mandy saw you?”

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll reduce your cuddling time to 5 minutes.”

Ian shuts up immediately, hugging Mickey even tighter.

Mickey secretly likes the secure feeling that the cuddling brings and because fucking reasons he wouldn’t mind cuddling again and if Mickey falls asleep like that, it’s no one’s business. Fucking reasons.

**Author's Note:**

> oh my god, I should stop.  
> You're gonna find me under a rock, if ya need me.  
> Side note: If ya catch where that sniffing thing's from, kudos to you :)  
> Side note number two: I don't have an end game or anything for this, nor I'm not sure if I ever make this a proper fic, so seemingly this ain't going no where, it's just something silly and mood-lifting I hope? So don't murder me bs of that, for other reasons, for the stupid humor perhaps, you have my permission :DDD


End file.
